Author's Chapter Notes:
Don't know where this came from. Blame it on my lack of sleep, but whatever. It's not really my style, and sounds totally not like me as far as my fics, but I was bored with POY and I needed a break before I drained myself of all creative juices.
I’m not sure why it hit me the way it did. I was so sure that I had moved on after what happened in Sunnydale. Months had been spent learning to accept that that he was truly dead, followed by the time employed to get past it. Forcing myself to get back on the horse proved to be the most changing of all feats.

But somehow, when the overwhelming, nauseating sensation slammed into me as I stood with Dawn in my kitchen washing dinner dishes in my Italian style sink, I was surprised that I felt he was alive for a small fraction of a second-long enough to let the beginnings of a smile curl my lips- before I felt him being ripped from my grasp once again.

And then I was surprised to realize how not over him I really was. I had almost toppled over with the force at which the feeling hit me. I quickly righted myself and continued scoring the bottoms of all my pans. After convincing Dawn that I was just dizzy, I excused myself to take a bath. And as the warm soapy water caressed my sun-kissed skin, I cried.

When Angel showed up a few days later in the company of a strange blue girl, I knew I had been right. We stood in my kitchen foyer, silence smothering us both as he searched for the right words.

“It was quick.” He told me, softly. And I think he knew that it did nothing to comfort me in the least. The three small words only furthered to upset me and I’m sure he saw the pained expression on my face.

Still, I said nothing, giving him the floor completely.

Angel shifted his feet slightly and tried to force the words past his lips. This was important. I could tell. I could tell he was being delicate with whatever it was he was trying to tell me, and suddenly I felt like grabbing him and shaking the words out of him.

“H-he wanted me to tell you-”

But then he stopped suddenly and I looked up from where I had been staring at my recently waxed floor, and our eyes locked for the first time since he had arrived on my doorstep, beaten and bruised.

“He wanted me to tell you that he knew.”

By now, I was beyond confused, and by the way his expression changed into one of uncertainty, I knew that mine showed my puzzlement at his words.

“What you said…” He amended, his dark eyes showing concern and sympathy. “Down in the hellmouth. He knew.”

The pieces started to fall into place, and the tears started to weld up in my eyes as I realized that Angel was referring to my admission of love to the vampire in question. Knowing that he had believed me when I had finally gathered the courage to tell him how deep my feelings for him ran brought a smile to my lips. I felt comforted in the fact that he didn’t die without knowing he was loved and would be missed. Though he probably didn’t know how large of a void he would leave in my life when he decided to be a martyr.

The smile faded quickly though, and Angel noticed when the tears threatened to make themselves know.

I turned from him, letting the tears fall, not wanting him to see. ‘Once a slayer, always a slayer…’ I thought, almost smiling through my tears at the Spike-like thought. Angel stayed silent behind me, and I suspected that he knew I was crying over one of the people he had hated most, but I didn’t care. A part of me blamed him for the bleached vampire’s third death, as well as for not telling me he was back, and refused to give him any mercy.

Releasing a breath I realized I had been holding in since the collapse of Sunnydale, I wiped at my tears roughly, frustrated with myself, and turned back around.

The ever-returning silence settled in again, and Angel watched me as I struggled with my emotions, and finally found the courage to speak.

“Thank you.” I whispered fiercely. And I knew he felt the sincerity I put into the two words deep in his heart.

His lips formed a tight smile before loosing the will to force it to stay, and he put his head down. It was then I realized that he too had cared for Spike in one way or another, and it comforted me to know that I wasn’t the only one in the world to still love him.

I don’t remember how long we stayed like that, dressed in silence and grief, but no more words were spoken. And when he turned to leave, I didn’t go after him, but just watched him walk out of the door.

The blue girl stayed behind for a moment, watching me, analyzing me, and I couldn’t force myself to find the strength or will to tell her to knock it off. Finally she nodded tightly, and walked to the open doorway, head held high, giving her the impression of some ancient demon who thought herself a God-king. It almost made me laugh, and had I not been so deep in the clutches of grief, I would have. She stopped right before passing the threshold that lead to the hallway, and turned back to face me once more.

“The white-haired one was not unpleasant to me, and I feel grief for his ruins. You were important to him, and your grief is thick. In my time, I had the power to alter events which would ultimately end in death. If I could, I would alter them for you, Slayer.”

Her words were strange, and sounded foreign to my ears, but I supposed that this was the ancient demon’s way of trying to comfort me, and let me know that Spike was also eminent to her. I excepted her kind words with a tight-lipped smile, and a curt half nod. Without another word, she walked out into the hallway and followed in the direction that Angel had gone.

I was still for a moment, then reached out to shut the door softly. I looked up toward the sky, wanting to catch sight of the stars but instead only seeing the chipping paint of the ceiling.

I closed my eyes, saw his smile, and cried.

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